"In you go," Takumi muttered dryly, his tone as apathetic as his sluggish movements.
His eyes drifted over the chaotic pile of belongings—notebooks, pens, comic books, and tools for tinkering with his devices. Screwdrivers, wrenches, and an action figure of a cybernetic character he'd bought before arriving at the academy sat in the mess, slightly off-kilter. It was around 1 PM on September 12, 958 S.E., their lunch break.
Sunlight streamed through the small glass windows above the lockers, casting warm golden patches on the floor. The autumn breeze, however, kept the air crisp. Outside, trees were turning a deeper red by the day, their leaves surrendering one by one to gravity. Animals busied themselves, either retreating into their burrows or gathering food for the impending cold.
Takumi lifted a hand to block the sunlight and resumed rummaging through his locker, which, like his life, remained an unorganized wreck. His gaze flicked lazily to the action figure, noticing its slight tilt. He considered fixing it—then promptly decided he didn't care. With a final shove, he crammed his things inside and slammed the locker shut.
The bang echoed down the hall, revealing Liene standing on the other side with a half-smug grin. She leaned casually against her own locker, elbow propped up, knuckles resting on her cheek. The force of the door closing made her cyan hair sway slightly, but her expression remained unchanged—smug, unfazed, completely enjoying herself.
Takumi grimaced, caught off guard, his scowl deepening.
"Yo," Liene greeted, her voice soft yet laced with mischief. She twirled a strand of hair and gave an exaggerated princess wave. "Miss your favorite troublemaker?"
"Oh joy, if it isn't my personal space invader," Takumi drawled, barely sparing her a glance. "Come to spread more chaos in my perfectly organized life?"
Liene gasped dramatically, pressing both hands to her cheeks. "My, my, such harsh words! And here I thought we had something special," she cooed, sidling closer, her eyes gleaming with amusement.
"Special?" Takumi snorted, waving a notebook between them like a makeshift barrier. "Yeah, specially annoying. Most people understand the concept of personal space."
"Fufu~" Liene hummed, gracefully draping herself against the lockers. "But watching you squirm is just too entertaining, Ta-ku-mi~"
"Right." He rolled his eyes, shutting his locker with more force than necessary. "Like how you find it 'entertaining' to leave your disaster zone for me to clean up in the dorm?"
She tapped his nose with a delicate finger, earning an immediate scowl. "My, my, my organized chaos is an art form. Unlike..." Her gaze flicked to his bulging locker, feigning concern. "...whatever natural disaster is happening in there."
"Oh, I'm sorry we can't all be Little Miss Perfect," he fired back with a sarcastic bow. "Should I color-code my notebooks to match your weapons collection?"
"Mm, no need to be jealous." Liene purred, patting his cheek patronizingly. "I keep things simple—one blade is all it takes to get the job done."
Takumi groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose like he was developing a migraine just from her presence. "So, what cosmic punishment brought you here to torment me today?"
"Just appreciating how spectacularly you crashed and burned in class after your late entrance." She smirked, her tone brimming with satisfaction.
Takumi straightened with a groan, his tired expression shifting to mild annoyance. The memory hit him like a bad joke. He'd really thought he'd nailed the sneaking-in part, tiptoeing toward a back seat like some master of stealth—until the chalk struck his shoulder.
The teacher hadn't even looked away from the board when delivering the hit, and the sheer precision of it still stung.
"Take your seat, and don't be late again," had been the only words of acknowledgement, and the entire class had snickered at his expense.
He pressed his lips together, shooting Liene a withering look. She grinned, fully enjoying his discomfort.
"Fufu~ Oh, but wait, there's more~" she added, clearly relishing every second of this. "You passing out cold right there in class."
"I'm touched that you pay such close attention to my life," he deadpanned. "Really. It's not creepy at all."
Liene adjusted her position, resting her cheek on her hand, watching as Takumi internally relived the embarrassment. Face-down on the desk, arms curled around his head like some human pretzel, snoring away. The class had been losing it when the teacher, utterly done with him, snapped his fingers. Next thing he knew, a gust of wind yanked him straight out of his chair.
The way his eyes had shot open, utterly lost on what dimension he was in, had sent the entire class into hysterics. The teacher, meanwhile, simply stood there, radiating pure disappointment.
Liene chuckled, remembering how the spell had flung him backward into the seat behind him. Half the class had struggled between laughter and the fear of receiving the same treatment, while Takumi had spent the rest of the day nursing both a headache and his wounded pride.
Takumi groaned again, rubbing his temples. Annoyance? Sure. But being actually mad? That required too much effort. He shot Liene a tired glance, one that clearly said: Are we done here?
His irritation was evident, but his laziness overshadowed any real response. He gave Liene a tired glance, clearly uninterested in continuing the conversation.
"Don't tell me," Takumi drawled, glancing at Liene's hand propped against her cheek. Her phone was clutched there, with several of her belongings scattered around her feet like a personal disaster zone. "The great Liene can't even open her own locker?"
Liene's usual composure cracked as she fumbled her phone, nearly dropping it before catching it in a less-than-graceful juggling act. Her attempt to mask the embarrassment only seemed to deepen Takumi's amusement. "My my, what makes you think—" she started, but her nervous throat-clearing gave her away.
She frantically tapped at her screen, swiping up and down in an obviously desperate attempt to look busy. The more flustered she became, the more her carefully maintained image slipped. "I'm simply taking my time to, ah..."
"To what? Develop a new relationship with the floor?" Takumi watched her struggle with growing satisfaction, his lazy grin widening. With an exaggerated sigh worthy of a martyred saint, he held out his hand. "Give it here before you hurt yourself."
Liene's eyes widened, that teasing smile of hers faltering. After a moment of what looked like intense internal debate, she let out a defeated "fufu~" and handed over her phone.
"Hmm?" Takumi tilted his head, savoring this rare moment of superiority.
"Just... fix it," Liene muttered with a small sigh, her usual playfulness dampened by embarrassment.
Takumi glanced at her phone, his expression a mix of boredom and mild pity. With deliberate slowness, he tapped it once, and the locker door opened instantly. He handed it back with his best 'I'm-not-saying-anything-but-I'm-totally-saying-something' smirk, barely containing his amusement.
He scratched his head, tousling his somewhat messy bronze-orange hair, the stubborn cowlick flopping with its weight. His brown eyes remained half-lidded, every bit the picture of exhausted indifference in his casually worn academy uniform—navy blue jacket, baggy pants streaked with yellow and white, and a brown vest. His brown ankle boots and gloves bearing the academy emblem completed the look, while his retractable scythe, now a compact rectangular brick, rested at his waist.
"Fun fact," Takumi drawled, fighting back another yawn, "they actually explained how these things work. You know, during that riveting presentation where the lockers—" he made exaggerated air quotes, "—'dynamically relocate' to wherever you are with just your phone." He shot Liene a smirk. "Which is hilarious, considering you were the one taking notes while I was busy testing gravity with my face."
Liene's eyes widened for a moment before she caught herself, hastily stuffing her belongings into the locker with all the grace of someone trying to hide evidence. The locker clicked shut with a soft whir, the app automatically securing it—the same app they'd been shown could summon these high-tech lockers anywhere on campus. She glanced at her phone, the irony of forgetting such a basic feature after actually paying attention not lost on her.
"Well, this has been fun," Takumi said with his trademark lazy grin, already turning to leave. "But I've got a date with more uncomfortable furniture to fall asleep on."
"Eh?" Liene blinked, caught off guard by his sudden exit.
She shook off her embarrassment, watching Takumi's retreating figure. He waved lazily over his shoulder, hand slipping into his pocket as he shuffled forward with all the energy of a sleepwalking sloth. With a soft sigh, Liene unsheathed her kyoketsu shoge, the blade catching the ceiling lights as she used it to swing herself forward. Landing silently behind him, she tucked the weapon away, finding herself trailing his lazy steps with an amused smile she couldn't quite suppress.
Takumi trudged ahead, each step more exhausted than the last, as if gravity had a personal vendetta against him. His yawns grew progressively more dramatic, accompanied by groans that suggested consciousness itself was offensive. Just as he thought he might escape to find his next napping spot, a pair of shoes appeared in his path. His gaze traveled upward with painful slowness, his face cycling through the five stages of grief before settling on pure irritation.
Liene paused behind him, curiosity piqued by this new development.
"Sora," Takumi muttered with all the enthusiasm of someone who'd just found mold on their lunch.
"So, it seems we meet once again, Sato..." Sora announced with his typical theatrical flair, wearing a smile that screamed 'I practiced this in the mirror.'
"We literally sit three desks apart," Takumi deadpanned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "What's with the dramatic reunion speech shit?"
As the seconds ticked by, Takumi's desire to vanish grew exponentially. Sora's smug expression hung in the air like an unwelcome guest, his arms crossed in what he clearly thought was an intimidating stance.
"As your rival—" Sora began dramatically.
"We're not rivals," Takumi cut in, his tone flatter than week-old soda. "Rivals implies you're actually competition."
Sora pressed on about passing the academy, his voice dripping with manufactured confidence. Takumi's response was immediate and surgical.
"—seeing you pass along with me in this academy, I can't help but wonder just how far below me you really are," Sora finished, exuding an over-the-top confidence that almost made Takumi admire his sheer persistence in being insufferable.
Takumi's laugh was more of a dismissive exhale. "Wow. Did you practice that speech in the mirror, or does pompous arrogance just come naturally to you?"
"I want to see just how far below me you are," Sora declared, radiating unearned confidence.
Takumi let out a slow, exaggerated clap. "Wow, congrats. You passed too? Genuinely shocking. I figured they just had an empty seat and thought, 'Eh, there's that guy over there, let's throw him a bone before he throws a tantrum again.'"
"You passed this academy by pure luck—" Sora started.
"—And you passed by what? Daddy's checkbook?" Takumi's deadpan delivery was a precision-guided missile of sarcasm. "Congrats on being about as impressive as a participation trophy."
Sora scoffed, undeterred. "You know, for someone who's supposed to be all great and powerful, you're about as impressive as a dull spoon. You blend in so well with the background, it's almost like you're not even trying."
Takumi groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Oh, for the love of—did you seriously order a 'How to Insult' starter pack? Because, geez, you're an embarrassment to insults themselves. I've seen playground arguments with more substance."
His brown eyes, half-lidded with exhaustion, somehow managed to convey both complete boredom and utter disdain. The bronze-orange cowlick flopping over his forehead only emphasized his couldn't-care-less attitude.
Liene, trailing behind, bit back a laugh. The way Takumi dismantled Sora was like watching a verbal demolition expert at work.
Sora sputtered, his carefully constructed facade cracking. "You—"
"Save it," Takumi groaned, "I've heard more compelling arguments from a broken vending machine."
Before Sora could get another word in, a sardonic chuckle rippled through the air. Takumi's expression was the definition of done with this, his eyes rolling with such precision it could've been patented. Sora's attempt at provocation was about as effective as trying to dent titanium with a feather.
"If you're done with the whole 'notice me senpai' routine, I've got better things to do. Like watching paint dry. Actually, that sounds more entertaining," Takumi drawled, his wit as sharp as a surgeon's scalpel.
Liene materialized beside him with the grace of a cat who'd just found an particularly amusing mouse to play with. Her finger traced a deliberate path along his shoulder, her touch light but impossible to ignore.
"My, my... what do we have here?" Liene's voice was honey-sweet poison. "Is the great Takumi-sama actually socializing? Should I mark this day in the calendar? Fufu~" Her eyes sparkled with predatory playfulness, like a cat toying with its prey.
Takumi didn't even bother turning. "Sorry, my social interaction quota for the day is exactly zero. Try again never." He made a shooing motion that practically screamed 'genius billionaire playboy philanthropist... minus the billionaire part and maybe even the other three.'
She leaned in closer, her presence an exquisite form of torture. "No? My, oh my~ Could've fooled me. He seems quite invested in getting your attention. Simply intriguing might I add" The word 'intriguing' rolled off her tongue like velvet-wrapped dynamite.
"I have an allergic reaction to unnecessary drama," Takumi quipped, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's a medical condition. Very serious."
Sora, meanwhile, puffed up like a peacock at a strutting competition. "I'm Sora, the best mage in—"
"—in your own imagination?" Takumi cut in, his interruption precise as a laser. "Congrats. Must be nice up there in fantasy land."
Liene's eyes danced between them, her smile growing more predatory by the second. Sora stood there, all spiky hair and bronze eyes, radiating the kind of confidence that made Takumi wonder if delusion was contagious.
To Takumi, Sora was about as threatening as a puppy trying to intimidate its reflection—adorable in its futility, but mostly just exhausting to watch.
Sora's outfit screamed "I read too many hero manuals" - a brown collared shirt under armor that looked like it had been designed by a committee of particularly unimaginative bureaucrats. The academy's colors of blue, white, and yellow fought a losing battle across his chest.
"I see you've found yourself a companion..." Sora attempted, his forced enthusiasm hanging in the air like last week's leftovers.
"Wow, your observational skills are truly groundbreaking. Have you considered a career in stating the obvious?" Takumi's sarcasm could've powered a small city.
He slipped past Sora with the casual grace of someone who'd elevated avoiding unwanted conversations to an art form, Liene following with the deliberate grace of a predator enjoying the hunt.
"So..." Liene purred, sidling up next to Takumi. "Your 'rival' seems... interesting~" Her finger traced lazy circles near her cheek, each movement calculated to maximize his discomfort, "what's the real story there?"
Takumi shrugged. "No story. Just some guy from back home who decided we were rivals. That's it. He's like that one song you can't get out of your head, except instead of a song, it's just someone repeatedly saying 'notice me' in increasingly desperate tones."
"Fufu~" Liene's laugh was musical mischief. "How cruel~ And here I thought there might be a dramatic tale of rivalry and passion~"
"The only drama here is the tragic case of misplaced confidence," Takumi retorted. "It's like watching someone try to fill an ocean with a teaspoon..."
Liene's theatrical sigh could've won awards. "Such a heartless boy~ Crushing dreams with that sharp tongue of yours. It's exactly why you're so..." she leaned in closer, "entertaining."
The sarcasm hung in the air like expensive perfume, but as he said it, Takumi's mind had already drifted elsewhere, something flickering across his face. His gaze lifted slightly, distant at that very moment, caught in the undertow of memory—not of Sora, but of something far more distant. A grand house. A sweeping central staircase. Glittering chandeliers casting fractured light across richly decorated walls. It was blurry, as if seen through rain-splattered glass. Faint. Elusive.
Then, just as suddenly as it came, it vanished, replaced by a dull throb behind his eyes. He pressed a hand to his temple, his usual lazy posture stiffening for just a moment.
Liene, ever observant, tilted her head. "Oh my, what's this? A headache? Or perhaps... a memory?"
Takumi blinked, brushing off the discomfort. "Neither. Just reality reminding me that life is an endless parade of inconveniences."
"Fufu~ ever the philosopher, I see," Liene mused, though the glimmer of concern in her eyes didn't fade. "Are you truly fine, boy? Or shall I begin writing your tragic eulogy?"
"Since when did you care?" Takumi shot back, though his tone was more amused than biting.
Liene pouted, tapping a finger against her lips. "Oh, I care. Just enough to be entertained."
"Well, I'm fine," Takumi said more directly this time, straightening up. "Hate to disappoint you, but no tragic eulogies today."
Liene's smile turned wickedly playful. "Such a waste. I had the perfect eulogy prepared - 'Here lies Takumi, who mastered the art of being done with everything before it even began.'"
He didn't bother looking back. "We done here?"
"My my~ So cold~" she cooed, but her eyes lingered on him a moment too long.
As they walked to their next class, Liene twirled her kyoketsu-shoge with practiced ease, the blade dancing between her fingers. It was a habit she'd picked up whenever something was on her mind, though she'd never admit it. The silence between them stretched, comfortable but heavy with unspoken thoughts. Takumi kept his gaze forward, his expression carefully blank, while that strange memory settled somewhere in the back of his mind like dust after a storm.
"Geez, I really recalled something so unpleasant…" Takumi thought.
Meanwhile, around 6 PM, the light outside shimmered and dimmed like the last glow of a fading ember, gradually yielding to the encroaching night along with the lingering traces of rain. Claire stood before her dorm room door, shifting from foot to foot as she peeked through the gap with all the stealth of someone trying very hard to be stealthy and failing adorably at it. Her yellow eyes darted around, checking—double-checking, triple-checking—if her roommate Kazuki was inside.
"Oh gosh, oh gosh," she whispered to herself, her breath catching as she nearly dropped her keys. She juggled them for a moment before catching them against her chest, then froze completely as if the tiny sound might somehow summon him. After a painfully long moment of absolute stillness, she peeked again.
No Kazuki. Just an empty room.
"O-Okay, coast clear! Not that I'm avoiding anyone! Because I'm not! That would be silly..." She stepped inside, then immediately spun around to check behind the door—just in case he had somehow mastered the art of door-hiding. Finding only air, she slumped against the wood with a soft thump.
"T-That took way too long..." Claire groaned, tugging at her sleeves until one got stuck on her watch. "Ah! No, wait—" She spent a few seconds untangling herself, face flushed even though no one was watching.
The last raindrops tapped against the window, drawing her attention. She blinked, rubbing her eyes with her newly freed hands, and turned toward the balcony. The setting sun painted everything in warm gold, autumn breeze rustling the curtains in a way that made her jump slightly before realizing what it was.
"Right! Diary time..." She looked up at her top bunk, where her diary sat just out of reach. Standing on tiptoes, she stretched—and stretched—and stretched some more, fingers patting around blindly. "Come on, just a little... bit... further..."
Her fingers finally brushed leather. "Aha!" she squeaked triumphantly—right before the diary slid right into her face. She caught it in a frantic dance of arms and elbows, hugging it to her chest like she'd just saved a falling baby. "Safe!"
Carefully, as if the balcony door might bite, Claire slid it open and stepped outside. She placed her diary on the railing, then quickly grabbed it again when a breeze threatened to flip its pages. Her fingers drummed nervously on the wood as she watched the sunset, yellow eyes reflecting the orange sky like mirrors.
Flipping through the diary revealed her life in scattered fragments—neat writing on good days, chaotic scribbles on nervous ones, pressed flowers from walks she'd taken alone, doodles of cats that looked more like potatoes with ears. She found a blank page and gripped her pen like it might try to escape.
"O-Okay, um... right. Writing. I can do this," she whispered, then added even more quietly, "...probably." She took a deep breath, accidentally inhaling a bug in the process and spending the next few seconds in a silent coughing fit. Once recovered, she squared her shoulders with determination. "Take two..."
"Hi Mom! waves... oh wait, you can't see me waving since this is a diary... ehehe..." Claire's pen wobbled across the page, her handwriting bouncing between neat and scattered like her thoughts. "It's day two at the academy and—OH! Should I have started with 'Dear Diary'? But that feels weird since I'm talking to you, Mom... um, anyway!"
She drew a little star in the corner, then immediately smudged it with her sleeve. "Oops..." She quickly tried to fix it, only making it worse, then drew a tiny heart next to it to make it look intentional.
"So! Today was... interesting? No, wait, exciting! Well, maybe both? You see, Rose got into this whole thing (not her fault! mostly...), and then there was this bird—" She paused, chewing on her pen before frantically adding, "—a really BIG bird! Like, huge! Not just a regular bird, that would be silly, haha..." Her writing got smaller as she squeezed the explanation between lines.
"I maybe sort of fought it? And by fought I mean I did this really cool thing with my—" The pen slipped from her fingers, rolling under her desk. "Oh no no no..." She dove after it, bumping her head on the way back up. "Ow... Note to self: desks are harder than they look..."
Her cheeks flushed as she remembered something else. "And then... um... well..." Her pen hovered over the page, drawing tiny circles in the margin. "There might have been... I mean, I ran into... that is..."
She quickly scribbled over those lines, her face turning redder. "Not that it matters! Because it doesn't! At all! Zero percent matters about Ka—" She violently crossed that out too, nearly tearing the page. "About anything! Or anyone! Just normal academy stuff!"
A strand of hair fell in front of her face, and she blew at it unsuccessfully several times before tucking it behind her ear. "The sun's setting now (it's really pretty, Mom! All orange and pink, like that time we made those failed strawberry cupcakes that somehow turned orange...)." She paused, realizing she'd gone off track again. "Oh! Right! So I should probably stop writing... Also my hand's getting tired and I may have accidentally knocked over my water glass while chasing my pen earlier..."
She signed off with a wobbly "Love, Claire" followed by several hearts, one of which looked more like a potato. She stared at it for a moment before adding a tiny face to the potato-heart, making it look intentional. "P.S. - Don't worry about me! I only ran into three walls today, which is way better than yesterday!"
As she set down her pen, Claire glanced up at the horizon, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear only for the autumn breeze to immediately undo her efforts. She scrunched her nose, about to try again when something caught her eye—a dark silhouette moving across the grounds below.
"Eep!" She instinctively ducked behind the railing, then slowly peeked over it, face flushing at her own reaction.
Her breath hitched.
Kazuki.
It was Kazuki.
Her fingers drummed nervously against the railing as she watched him walk past, his usual unreadable expression making her heart do that weird flippy thing it always did when she saw him. He paused, glancing briefly to the left, and she ducked again even though there was no way he could see her from that angle.
"W-Why am I even hiding?" she whispered to herself, but stayed crouched anyway. "It's not like I'm doing anything wrong... right? W-why is this bothering me..."
She peeked again. He was still walking, that mysterious aura around him that always made her feel like she was trying to read a book in another language. She wanted to understand—to bridge that gap somehow—but something always held her back, like invisible hands pulling her away whenever she got too close.
She never understood him. He was a mystery, always just slightly out of reach. And yet… despite that, she felt an odd obligation to keep her distance.
Fear?
Guilt?
She wasn't sure.
Letting out a soft sigh, she mumbled to herself, "Maybe it's better this way..." The words came out softer than she intended, almost lost in the evening breeze.
Claire hugged her diary closer, then realized she was still crouching and quickly stood up—too quickly. "Whoa!" She wobbled, catching herself on the door handle. Taking a deep breath, she slid the glass door closed with exaggerated care, as if the slightest noise might somehow carry all the way down to where Kazuki was walking.
Climbing into her top bunk involved its usual awkward dance of trying not to knee herself in the face or fall backwards. Once safely under the covers, she pulled them up to her chin, diary tucked securely against her chest like a shield.
Her thoughts swirled like autumn leaves in the wind, too scattered to catch, too numerous to count. The guilt sat heavy in her chest, but trying to understand why felt like trying to catch fog with her hands.
She blinked at the ceiling, fighting the urge to peek over the edge of her bunk just one more time, even though she knew he was long gone.
"I just... I wish I knew..." she mumbled into her pillow, not even sure what she wished she knew anymore.
Her mind drifted, thoughts swirling in a mix of exhaustion and uncertainty. Guilt weighed heavy on her heart, but her mind was blank, unable to form the words or emotions to explain it.
Just... blank.